


Once, Twice, Five Times Coincidence

by RittaPokie



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Amnesia, First Kiss, Making fun of tusk love, Molly lives, Other, Tarot Cards, WIP, Widomauk Week, Widomauk Week 2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-04-08 12:12:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19106872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RittaPokie/pseuds/RittaPokie
Summary: Molly is alive, but what now?





	1. Good Omen

With so few of them around to take watch now, they really can’t afford to have more than one sit up, but Caleb can’t help it. He couldn’t sleep. Molly sits there, on a log - well, it’s barely a log, a glorified branch - shuffling his cards. Every so often, he turns in such a way that Caleb catches the red then white-green light reflection off his eyes from the moon, a sign of good low light vision.

 

The fire is burning low by the time Caleb gives in and gets up to go sit beside him. He pokes at it on his way over, and does his best not to get trapped there, watching the yellow, orange, and red flickers that match his hair and so many bad memories. Molly glances at him as he sits, but he sits quietly for a moment before spreading the cards and holding them out.

 

Caleb looks them over and thinks about the previous times he’s pulled a card from Molly’s deck. First in Allfield, before the mine, he pulled the lovers. Then, in Allfield again, after the mine, he pulled the lovers. A third time, in Zadash, in the smuggler’s tunnels, he pulled the lovers. A fourth time, in the swamp, in a buried tavern, he pulled the lovers. At this point, he has to believe that Molly is cutting the cards somehow. He has to, otherwise he has to face the fact that coincidences don’t just keep happening. He drags a finger lightly across the top of them, and picks one near the left, but not the last one on that side. He pulls it, face down, to himself, and then flips it.

 

_ The lovers. _

 

He sighs a soft, quick breath and the card flutters from his fingers. Molly’s hand reaches into his line of sight to retrieve the card from the grass beneath them. The tiefling chuckles lightly to himself when he sees it, and then puts it back in the deck, and stores the cards away in a pocket.

 

“I’m not cheating, I swear.” He says. “The only reason I keep asking is I want to see how many times. That’s.. four now?”

 

“Five.” Caleb says. “You got very drunk our first night  in Allfield, that’s probably the one you’re forgetting.”

 

“Right.” He stretches his mile-long legs and stares up at the moon, watching the clouds obscure and reveal it, and Caleb tries not to watch him.

 

“I don’t believe in fate.” Caleb says.

 

“I know.” Molly says. “Just because you keep pulling the lovers doesn’t mean it’s on the horizon or anytime soon, just ahead. It’s just a good omen, near or far. Something good is coming to you Mr. Caleb.” He turns and gives Caleb his trademarked Cheshire grin at the end of the sentence, and Caleb turns away. He _had_ been watching.

 

“This group needs some.” Caleb says. “Good omens, I mean.”

 

“We’re gonna get ‘em back.” Molly says without hesitation, staring up again. “And they’re strong, they’ll be there when we get there.”

 

“I hope your confidence leads us in the right direction.”

 

He turns back to Caleb. “When hasn’t it?”

 

They’re quiet again, for a time. Caleb leaves that question unanswered. The fire crackles and adds noise to an otherwise silent evening. It’s getting too cold for night bugs.

 

“Why would I cut the cards, Caleb?” Molly asks, out of the blue.

 

“Uh, I… thought you might be flirting.” Caleb says - admits.

 

Molly laughs. He laughs and then covers his mouth not to wake the group. He puts an arm around Caleb when he collects himself. “Oh, _I am_ , but not with the cards.”

 

Caleb wasn’t expecting such a bold statement, especially not after being laughed at. The laughing he understood. He’s a dirty, emotionally closed, objectively dangerous man with dangerous secrets. Molly seems to have his shit together, at least somewhat. Okay, maybe not really, but comparatively. Now he has to come to terms with the fact that all the things he’s been writing off were flirting, and he doesn’t know how.

 

“Were you worried the cards mean me?” He asks, his tone a little more serious.

 

The answer to that is a definite _yes_ , but it’s not the whole answer. No, the whole answer is much more complicated and requires a long-winded discussion that Caleb isn’t sure he can find the air for. Molly’s arm around him loosens as he sits, staring into the fire. So, so many bad memories, so much tragedy, so much heartache, and then… one thing, one tiny little sparkle in a sea of darkness. He barely remembers it, only because he has to, because that’s how his mind works. If he were someone else, he might have blanked out that whole experience in the mines, but he isn’t and he can’t. He remembers Molly trying to wrestle him from the grip of his own guilty conscience.

 

And again, he is removed from his thoughts by the same unavoidable teifling.

 

“I guess it doesn’t matter, either way. It doesn’t take a genius to see it makes you uncomfortable. I think five’s enough times to call it, after that I’d just be torturing you.” He smiles as Caleb faces him. “And that’s kinda the opposite of what I’m working on, isn’t it?”

 

Caleb still doesn’t answer him. He doesn’t really know how, and at this point he’s looking for the exit in this conversation and thinks he should’ve stayed on the ground and pretended to sleep until he passed out.

 

“You must be really, really bad at twenty questions.” Molly says. His arm starts to slip from around Caleb, but Caleb catches his hand before it’s gone from his shoulder. It gets him a curious glance, but Molly relaxes back to how they were before. Caleb doesn’t move his hand from Molly’s.

 

“I know. I’m bad at talking about myself.” He says. “I’m not...worried about _you_ , specifically.”

 

“I get that.” Molly says. “I hope you’d say something, if it really bothered you. _Any of it_.” His eyes fall to Caleb’s hand on his and linger for a moment before he meets Caleb’s eyes with a gaze and a smile that makes Caleb’s heart flutter just a little, in a very dangerous way, a way that he knows he should avoid at all cost.

 

Caleb shakes his head, “It doesn’t.”

 

Molly’s expression is thoughtful. “Well then, _Mr. Caleb_. What’s next?”

 

This question, Caleb decides to answer. Not with words, but with what he views as a bad decision, with closed eyes and meeting lips, and Molly is _soft_. His lips, his hair where Caleb’s hand tangles in it, and in his willingness to let Caleb take the lead here - because he is the hesitant one. If Molly was expecting the same meekness that he’s seen from the redhead’s personality, he was mistaken. It’s a cloak, a shield, a protection, and it’s not all that’s there. Caleb drags the tiefling’s bottom lip with his teeth as he pulls away.

 

“Goodnight, _Mr. Mollymauk_.” He releases his hold on Molly’s hair and hand, and goes back to his sleeping place. There’s something keenly shifted about the night, and it settles him, it lets him drift away into dreams. One of the last things he catches before he falls away into darkness is the soft sigh of someone who bargained and got far more than they expected.


	2. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> well fuck me then i guess it's gonna be a series

It was a great plan - for the information they had, it was a great plan. It worked, they stopped the carts, they had the Iron Shepherds in the palms of their hands… until they didn’t anymore. There were more than there were supposed to be, they were more powerful than they were supposed to be, and then they got the upper hand.

 

Haste, gone. Slow, gone. Thieves' Tools, gone.  _ Molly _ ...

 

Time blurs and compounds. Caleb could point out every minute detail of the past 24 hours and everything that went right and wrong, he knows when and where he is, but he isn't experiencing any of it.

 

_ "It’s just a good omen, near or far." _

 

A grave is dug, a marker placed, belongings they want or need to keep collected. Neatly, plainly, cleanly, it's brushed aside for what has to be done. They don't have time to stay for long. Beau takes his cards, even though Caleb is pretty sure she doesn't believe in fate either. He stops her as she starts to put them away in her pack. "Can I...?"

 

Her brows quirk, but she spreads them out in her hands anyway. The motion is not nearly as fluid, of course it's not the same, and the cards probably haven't been properly shuffled. He pulls one from the right of the middle, closer to the middle than the edge, the opposite of the time before. He moves it face down, to his chest, and then turns it so only he can see it. Part of him wants to laugh, but he doesn't have enough breathable air in his lungs, only what feels like smoke.

 

"What'd you get?" She asks.

 

He shakes his head. "It doesn't matter."

 

With or without Molly, they have to get their friends back from these people. They do, with one new friend and then two, and then one again, and they have their three old friends. None of them know how they're going to tell Yasha or what she'll do when she finds out, if they'll lose her too.

 

Caleb wonders, "Maybe Molly was the glue that held this group together."

 

And then, approaching the grave, all of them forming up behind Yasha, letting her take the lead, he thinks, "Maybe he still is."

 

The grave has obviously been disturbed, even from far away. His coat is gone, which they all suspected might be the case. It's a main road on the way to a town of thieves and it's cold out... but that isn't all that's been disturbed. 

 

“Molly!” Jester shouts, but Yasha puts her hand on her shoulder and looks around.

 

“He doesn’t know who that is.” She says. “Calling him isn’t going to help us.”

 

“It’s still him, though, isn’t it?” Nott asks, pulling the copper wire they’re all so familiar with out of her coat. She whispers something into cupped hands and then pivots in a quarter turn to try again.

 

Caleb had been meaning to turn Frumpkin back into a cat in the carriage, but he’s very glad now that he didn’t. A cold, confused, gravely wounded tiefling who dug himself out of a grave couldn’t possibly have gotten that far… how long ago could he have come back? Caleb’s eyes fade to arcane energy as he follows the owl’s vision high into the air, until he can scarcely see himself against the backdrop of grasses dying in the winter, similar colors to everything he owns. He might not stand out, but Molly will.

 

After their own searches fail, they all turn to Caleb, every one of them ignoring the fact that they’ve halted an entire caravan and could be giving up their bonus for this - Molly is worth more. They see nothing that he’s seeing, sailing over the main road, losing track of himself, only remembering the direction. Finally, they see him take off running before he drops the link with Frumpkin. You’d think he’d have learned by now not to do something so foolish, but even without saying, he told them all the direction. He only gets a few yards before the mud sucking his boots and uneven terrain throws him to the ground. He didn’t want to lose sight. Instinct drives him back to his senses as he lets go of his cat-owl to find himself face down in the mud.

 

The first thing he hears with his own ears is the heavy fall of Yasha’s feet directly in front of him as she lands and keeps running without stopping, having fully vaulted over his entire laid out body. Beau and Nott can keep pace with her, with Nott trailing slightly, stopping for a second to make sure Caleb is okay,  but the rest of the group loses ground fast. Caduceus and Jester are the ones who stop to help him up.

 

Beau could get to him first, but she doesn’t. She hangs back on Yasha’s intensity, her direct focus. When they see him, Beau and Nott both drop back about ten feet in an unspoken relent of the situation. Yasha knows him, Yasha knew him before, she’s the only one who could be prepared.

 

The aasimar slows when she gets closer to him, “Molly?” she says, even though she herself said that he wouldn’t know who he was. He turns, not at the sound of his name, but at the set of three footfalls from people who were nowhere near him only moments ago. It’s immediately apparent that he doesn’t know who any of them are, and that he’s scared of them. He’s covered head to toe in damp earth and bruises, his own blood dark stained on his clothes, his coat pulled tight over a body that’s still so cold in the wind.

 

They all stop and linger, unsure of what to do. Yasha takes a step forward, Molly takes a step backwards. “It’s okay, I’m here now.” Yasha says. She holds out her hand to him and steps, just one, then two, then three. He doesn’t move. “I’m here.” She pulls him, half limp, into her arms. “And so are you. It’s going to be okay.” He watches the others over her shoulder, and watches as the others catch up.

 

Caleb, covered in more mud than usual, limping a bit on a twisted ankle, meets the eyes of the person he kissed two days ago, who no longer remembers him at all.

 

_ “Well then, Mr. Caleb. What’s next?” _


	3. Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 - nightmares

There is nothing to be done about Molly’s memory, or the new scars he has from his death and whatever he went through that healed him over again. Caduceus watches their purple tiefling intensely for the first few hours of travel, but eventually settles. Whatever brings Molly back is unlikely to have the best intentions, but he is _alive_ , not some twisted creature. Jester and Yasha sit in the back of the cloaked cart with Molly after having fed him as much as he was willing to eat, watching him inspect and experience for the first time every single food they gave him. Jester thinks it’s a shame they don’t have anything good.

He’s wrapped tightly in a blanket, practically swaddled in it, and he still shivers for hours on their travel. His attention is split between the two of them, and there’s still clearly no trust there, but they have met his basic needs. Genuine concern for the wellbeing of a creature is a universal and unspoken language, one that even something feral can speak.

“So what do we do now?” Jester asks, looking at Yasha.

“Well…” There’s a mix of sadness and relief in her eyes. Molly is here, but he’s not _Molly_ , and it’s giving them all uneven feelings. She touches her chest, over her heart. “Yasha.” She says, and then touches his chest. He flinches. “Mollymauk.”

Jester follows her lead immediately. “Jester.” She says, pointing to herself. “Yasha.” She points to the barbarian. “Molly.” And finally to him.

He shifts, his head tilting slightly and his brows furrowing, sitting up straighter and then relaxing back into the blanket. A soft “hmm” sound comes from him, and it’s the first noise he’s made at all since they found him. He opens his mouth several times, forming different syllables and letters he doesn’t understand how to make, but he doesn’t get any of them out for a while. He stops and looks frustrated, and then his hand reaches for Yasha, mirroring their movements. It still takes him a while longer, and several more broken sounds fall from his lips while he tries to find it. He eventually gets the first syllable, but he is clearly losing patience with himself by that point.

“You’re doing well.” Yasha says. “It’s okay.” She pats his shoulder gently.

The group had always wondered how such polar opposites came to be so inseparable, but now Jester is watching it happen in real time. Whether he remembers her or not, Yasha is an anchor for him. He tries several more times over the next few hours of travel, switching from trying one name to the other when he gets frustrated. Eventually, after they stop expecting it to happen today at all, his fingertips brush against Yasha’s shoulder gently, and in a hoarse voice, barely a croak that they can hear, “Yasha.”

She smiles warmly at him and nods, then puts her hand to his chest. “Molly.”

His face lights up in a grin that makes Jester want to cry, just a little, and he repeats her name. They do this for a few minutes, until Molly’s voice starts to sound almost normal, at least when he’s saying her name. Finally, he turns to Jester and starts the whole process over again. It’s quicker this time, thought not by much. He’s not quite as tongue-tied. Words have a form and shape that he’s beginning to understand. Jester considers running some tongue twisters and singer’s warm-ups by him, but he probably isn’t ready for that yet.

———

In Beau and Caleb’s carriage, there’s a much different mood. There’s a heaviness in the air, and it’s not just from the incense Caleb started burning in the enclosed space to get his cat back. The door had been opened for two hours now, and the smell still hadn’t faded. It might be nice incense when used reasonably, but magic isn’t reasonable. Caleb is laying down on one side of the cab while Beau watches what she can see of the road out of the open door. Occasionally, there’s a giggle from behind the illusion on the cart they stole, and she’s glad things are going well.

Caleb shifts in his sleep periodically, not staying still, unsettled. He finally passed out from sheer exhaustion, but that doesn’t mean he’s resting. His chest has been tight since they had to bury their friend, like a knot of rope tied around his heart and lungs, squeezing until he can’t breathe. It hasn’t gotten better with Molly’s return, and it follows him into his sleep like a dense covering of fog… or smoke.

His eyes are closed in his dream - and he knows it’s a dream, for all the good that does him. The crackle and pop of licking flames fills his mind, and he doesn’t want to look. He knows what he will see; it may vary slightly, but it’s always the same. His eyes open against his will, and a burning house stands before him. The cart in front of the door, the yellow, red, and orange dancing in the windows, smoke pouring out of the chimney, and screams. He tries to plug his ears, but all of it follows him, because it’s not external, it’s him - it’s all inside of him. He tries to push the cart, even though he knows it won’t move - it never moves. There’s a bang on the window, then another one, and he looks, giving in with the cart. Inside the house, there are more than usual - there’s _everyone_. He desperately tries to pull the window open as Beau pounds on the window; it cracks, but it won’t break no matter how hard she tries. He watches as she vanishes into smoke, sliding down the panes clutching her throat. And he follows the pounding sounds, window to window, and now there’s an endless row of them. It’s a museum of everyone he cares about, all meeting the same fate. Then, the house again, and a hand on his shoulder, gripping, digging into his flesh.

_“Good work.”_

He wakes up with a gasp of more air than he’s gotten in his lungs in days, and Beau shaking him awake, her fingers practically digging into to bone in his arm. “Caleb. Caleb, come on, snap out of it.”

His heart hammers staccato against his chest as his eyes focus to not just Beau in the cart with him. She releases her grip when he sits up and rubs his eyes. Molly sits next to her, less wrapped up now, but still covered in the blood from his death and the dirt from his grave. The other two stare at him for a moment before Beau says anything.

“He’s learning names.” She says.

Molly reaches out and places a steady hand on Caleb’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “It’s okay.” He says.

“Oh, wow. Not just names, I guess.” Beau says.

Caleb meets Molly’s eyes, and he takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I’m fine.” He says.

Molly leaves his hand for a bit longer before sitting back. He watches Beau and Caleb’s silent standoff as Beau knows Caleb is lying, but also knows he isn’t going to talk about it - and she doesn’t know how to ask how he’s feeling either way. “I’m fine.” Caleb repeats to her.

Molly points to himself, “Molly,” and then touches his fingertips gently to Caleb’s chest. His expression changes to soft concern and he flattens his palm against Caleb’s pounding heart as it picks up to racing again.

“Caleb.” The wizard says. Molly lingers, feeling the beating in Caleb’s chest before he pulls back, and Caleb knows that while Molly’s mind may be empty, it’s still there, and it’s still working.


	4. Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 - sleepy intimacies

Caleb is glad that he can make them all feel safe enough to sleep without a watch now. He’s glad they can _be_ safe now. His eyes flutter open to a softly lit sky, just at the fringes of dawn, to the sounds of birds chirping in the nearby forest and his friends breathing (or snoring, Caduceus) around him. Groggy, he feels mostly at peace. There are some things going on at the moment that aren’t ideal, but they all lived, and that counts for something. The nightmare from a few days before is smoldering low in the back of his mind, and he’s okay.

Nott, as usual, is clinging to his shins while she sleeps. He closes his eyes and listens to them for a while, until he hears stirring next to him and feels someone prop on his chest. He assumes Jester, but they don’t speak, so he opens his eyes...to Mollymauk. Bleary eyed and soft smiling, he studies Caleb’s face a moment.

“Sleep well?” He asks, and Caleb’s heart takes immediate offense. Molly sets his hand palm down on Caleb’s chest to feel it like he had before, with the first dream. “No?”

One thing noteworthy that Caleb has noticed about Molly’s recovery so far, and it’s a look in his red eyes that always implies he has more to say, but can’t. That look is there now. He’s been picking up a lot from them very quickly, along with Jester and Yasha continuing to work with him, and he’s making progress.

“I slept okay.” Caleb says. Molly nods and sits up, stretching. For all the gore that is on the front of him, this is the first time Caleb has seen Molly without his coat now, because the tiefling just _finally_ warmed up the day before. The glaive must have pierced all the way through him, because the back of his shirt isn’t white anymore, and it’s stuck, dried, to his back. Caleb unfurls Molly’s coat, which was being used as a pillow, and drapes it over Molly’s shoulders.

“Thanks.” Molly says, turning his head, chin propped on his shoulder, smiling. He has no idea how bad of shape he is in. Then again, Caleb can’t say anything. His own clothes and hair and... _everything_ is caked in mud from where he fell multiple days ago. He slips his arms into the sleeves, and for a moment, it’s almost as if nothing happened, like he never died.

Caleb looks to the sky again, at the slowly brightening darkness, fading to a pale glow of blue, but the view isn’t very good from where they decided to set up. They’re within view of the rest of their little caravan, but a little to the side, a little obscured. He stands and holds his hand out to Molly, “Your first sunrise should not be behind trees and rocks.” He says.

He expects there to be hesitation, but Molly’s takes his hand immediately, using him as a counter-balance to stand up. As Caleb steps out of the dome, it disappears, but the alarm is still in place, so he isn’t too worried. He leads Molly out onto the road, where there are less things to obstruct the view of the sky. It’s not a vista worth writing home about, but the sky is visible at least. He keeps his grip on Molly’s hand firm while they’re walking, but loosens it when they stop, in case Molly wants to let go, but the tiefling doesn’t. He doesn’t have a reason to.

Molly sighs softly next to him, taking in the surroundings. It’s a lovely sunrise this morning; the sky is nearly completely clear, and the white haze of morning slowly gives way to a crisp blue sky.

“It is... beautiful,” Caleb says. “I have not taken the time to watch for a long time.”

“Beautiful?” Molly asks, looking at him.

“I- hm, it is… difficult to explain?” Caleb thinks for a moment. “We say things are beautiful when they make us.. _feel_. The sun rising, the sounds of the birds, a flower, a person- many things can be beautiful. It is.. not a resource with limits.”

“That’s beautiful.” Molly says, and smiles.

“I suppose it is a nice sentiment, that we can have so much beauty in the world,” Caleb says, “if only that were all it holds.”

Molly blinks at him and then looks back to the sunrise. “There’s _so much_.” Molly says. “Everywhere. I,” he sighs, “I can’t- I can’t see without seeing _something_ that I _don’t_ …” he presses his palms to his eyes, finally letting go of Caleb’s hand.

Caleb hesitates for a moment, then pats his shoulder, “You will get it back, my friend. We are all going to help you with this,” he says. “I know you are frustrated, and angry, but… we are here. You will be okay.”

Molly doesn’t even fully move his hands from his eyes before wrapping his arms around Caleb. Caleb doesn’t even have time to respond before Molly starts walking back towards camp, leaving the redhead there with his arms slightly raised from his sides, trapped like a mannequin in the pose of someone unexpectedly embraced. Slowly, his hands move to his sides. His heart patters against his chest like an errant rainstorm, but he feels oddly settled anyway.

He eventually goes back to camp as well, and lays down on his back in his previous spot, though he doesn’t bother putting the dome back up. He probably won’t go back to sleep anyway, and the others will be up soon. Molly, back in his place between Yasha and Caleb’s empty space, cracks one eye as Caleb approaches. He turns and practically burrows into Yasha’s arms, she barely stirs but to wrap him tighter. Her mourning for Mollymauk is something Caleb is very glad to have avoided.

 


	5. Summer's Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn't feel like doing widomauk week today but here's something nonetheless

“This is a bad idea.” Beau says, watching Fjord turn Summer’s Dance over in his hand.

 

“Is is worse than giving Kiri a dagger?” He counters. “I’m just glad I didn’t spend any time with this.”

 

“Why?” She asks, and he falters for a second.

 

“I, uh, I don’t know how to get them back afterwards. The original falchion is still gone, I guess they merged.” He admits, but keeps the details of  _ how _ to a minimum. “Doesn’t matter.”

 

They passed by Hupperdook a day before, bringing them ever close to Zadash, and something is on Fjord’s mind, he has a theory. Maybe it’s a stupid theory, but still. They have just started setting up camp in a wide dip in the ground when Fjord waves everyone out of the circle except Molly, and then places Summer’s Dance in Molly’s hand, closing his fingers around the hilt. Molly looks very confused, but Fjord pats his shoulder. 

 

“Alright, now how to explain this.” he mutters to himself. “You used to fight with that.” He points to the scimitar.

 

Molly looks down at it, tilting it in his hand. He can feel that it’s well-balanced, even if he can’t say so. It feels...right in his hand, it feels natural, but he feels like he’s missing something. He swings the blade back and forth in front of him a few times, the wind from it shifting his coattail.

 

“I’m gonna teach you how to use it.” He says, and he summons his own weapon. “I’m not gonna hurt you, and you’re not gonna hurt me, just… practice.” He has to admit, it’s a little nerve-wracking. It’ll be especially so if he’s right, and Molly could take any of this the wrong way and think that Fjord was really trying to cause him harm, because he has no reason to trust any of them.

 

Yasha doesn’t seem enthused by the idea, but she approaches nonetheless and puts one of the carnival scimitars into Molly’s other hand, then steps away. Molly swings them both, and there’s a fluidity to it that he really shouldn’t have, which makes Fjord smirk. “Okay.” Fjord says, and he steps forward. He turns the falchion in his hand and slowly brings the flat edge to Molly’s throat. The tiefling sucks in breath and looks honestly terrified for a second, but he calms when no pain comes. “Like this. It’s  _ practice _ , like I said. It’s to say I  _ could _ , I’m  _ good enough _ , but I won’t.” He pulls the blade away, and holds it out in front of him.

 

“Practice.” Molly repeats to him. “Okay, I think I understand.” He’s a little shaky from what he may have considered a near-death experience.

 

“Whenever you’re ready, tap the flat of your blade to mine.” He touches the flat edge of his falchion. “That’s this part.”

 

Molly nods, and looks to one scimitar, then the other. He crosses them over each other near the hilt and drags the blades across, out, away from each other, the soft grinding music of metal loud in the still evening. It’s a  _ good _ sound, it sounds  _ familiar _ and that’s a blessing to him, because  _ nothing _ has been familiar. He breathes deep and does as Fjord asked him to do when he was ready. He isn’t quite sure what to expect, and then the falchion skirts past his vision, about an inch from his face. He had back-stepped on pure instinct.

 

“Hey, be more careful!” Nott shouts from the sidelines.

 

“You could have hit him.” Yasha echos.

 

“No I won’t.” Fjord shoots them an exasperated look. “I’m not gonna  _ actually _ hurt him.” He takes his eyes away for just long enough and hears,  _ feels _ the rasp of metal on leather as a scimitar swipes down the his chest, crossways. He parries the offhand strike, and the move knocks Molly slightly off balance. The tiefling stumbles backwards a bit, but rights himself and waits for Fjord’s return, swords held slightly out away from himself, not defensive in the least.

 

Fjord lunges for him, falchion at the ready, but he has to stop on his tiptoes when he comes neck-to-blade with Molly’s scimitars, suddenly crossed between them. He tips back onto his heels, a little shaken by that, and adjusts his grip. He brings the falchion down into the crossed swords, locking them both in place, and instead throws a punch, catching Molly’s jaw.

 

Molly reels and then spits blood, probably having been hurt more by his own teeth than Fjord’s hit. He runs his tongue along his split lip and pushes forward with his scimitars, still crossed and held by the falchion, knocking Fjord back. He steps and then spins, bringing both scimitars in tandem at Fjord, one higher than the other. Fjord ducks the higher, but the lower hits his side, catching in the leather for a second before it pulls free.

 

Fjord swings again, now that momentum has carried both of Molly’s blades to one side. He is  _ sure  _ that he will hit, and then his eyes meet Molly’s, and he sees a wisp of dark red energy before his vision is completely gone. When he can see again, it’s the clanging of his falchion against a scimitar. Molly swings the scimitar that isn’t crossed with Fjord’s falchion to within an breath of Fjord’s throat, then spins it and smacks the flat edge against his pulse.

 

“You suck!” Fjord hears Nott shout. “He can’t even fucking remember his name. Why are you getting your ass kicked?”

  
“Shut up!” He shouts back at her.

 

“He’s just going easy on Molly, right Fjord?” Jester says, “He doesn’t want to hurt him!”

 

“Yeah, ‘course I am, that’s all it is  _ Nott _ .” He shoots her a glare and sees Caduceus’ soft smile as he turns his attention back to Molly. “You win.”

 

“That’s it?” Molly asks, and Fjord feels just the faintest hint of embarrassed flushing in his cheeks.

 

“I mean, if someone else wants to step in, but it’s really just, me, you, and Yasha that use blades.” He says. “And I don’t think she wants to fight you.”

 

“He can still do the… that thing with the eyes.” Yasha says. “He made you go blind, made you miss.”

 

“So he can probably still do the other shit.” Fjord says.

 

“How cool am I?” Molly asks, a smirk on his face. He holds the scimitars to his sides, relaxed but unsure what he’s supposed to do with them now.

 

“Pretty cool, but I think we’ll leave the dangerous stuff out for now.” Fjord says. “You can keep those, though.”

 

Yasha rummages through their packs for a few moments and then goes over to buckle the belt with Molly’s sheathes on it around his hips. He holds the blades up and lets her without hesitation, and then she guides him into putting them away, moving his arms for him. “You did really good.” She says, and he smiles at the praise. “It’s good to know you’re not defenseless.” She turns to the group. “It...wasn’t like this last time, though no one tried to spar with him then.”

 

“Well, that’s their mistake.” Fjord says.


	6. Tusk Love

They had been discussing what to do next, whether they should move on from Zadash or continue working for the gentleman. It had been decided that they would spend a few weeks here, at least, to catch Molly up a little more, but they can’t find a reason to stay beyond that. Caleb mentions there not being anywhere to get books beyond that smut shop, which prompts a question from Molly.

Jester pulls her copy of that _gods awful_ smut book, Tusk Love, and flips it open to what Caleb can see is a repeatedly dog eared page. “I can’t read it.” Molly says.

“That’s okay, I’ll do it.” Jester says. She skims the page a moment and then starts, paying no mind that they’re in the middle of Zadash’s finest inn, in the full tavern on the ground floor, “ _Oh_ , Oskar,” she says in a breathy voice, “you startled me, I… I did not hear you approach.”

“The soft evening light caresses the curves of her form, casting her in blush and violets, and _Oskar_ has to shake himself from _untoward thoughts_ -“ Jester pauses, “I don’t have a good husky voice, can someone else- Fjord, would you?”

Fjord tilts his cup towards himself and Caleb can see it’s still half full. “Well, would ya look at that, I need a drink, who else? Molly? Yasha? On me, don’t worry.” He stands up and walks away, stiffly downing what’s left in his tankard.

“Caleb?” Jester turns to him next.

“Ehh… I do not know if my voice is good for an orc.” He looks over the page anyway, “I am sorry for sneaking up on you, my lady, I was worried where you’d gone.” He reads in a monotone voice, “Please, forgive me for catching you in such a state of undress, I-“

“ _Cay_ leb.” Jester whines. “You have to put some emotion into it! _Fine,_ I guess I’ll have to do the whole reading _myself._ ”

She looks over the page again. “ _Please_ , forgive me for catching you in…. such a state of undress, I-“ a soft gasp, “I know what your people think of my kind, but I would never-“

She pauses, and blinks a bit to tear up her eyes, then switches back to the voice of a damsel, “Oh, _Oskar_ ,” She pulls the open book to her chest, “Guinevere’s chest heaved, her bosom bouncing as she wept,”

“I would never think such things of you.” She reads, and Caleb can just see Beau mouthing the words half into her drink, this is apparently not the Jester’s first show. “ _Oskar_ pulls his fur from his shoulders and drapes it over the maiden, her _tender_ flesh still _soaking_ from her bath in the river, the cold water having made the red peaks of her nipples stiff in the night air.”

“Wasn’t it sunset?” Nott asks.

Jester shoots her a look, and then continues. Caleb glances around and notices that they have gathered the attention of the entire bar, and that Fjord is nowhere to be seen. “He tries not to look at her, and she at him, but with a soft gasp,” Jester imitates, “she realizes that his fingers are larger than her fiancé’s manhood, and she _longs_ for Oskar’s touch. She sinks into his warm embrace, and feeling his heat, turns her delicate face to his. The harsh outline of his tusks and ridged brow no longer frighten her, but _excite_ her.”

“ _Scheiße_ , it is worse than I thought.” Caleb says.

“You’re wrong.” Jester glances up at him and back down at the book.

Fjord, suddenly beside Jester, takes the book from her hand and closes it. “Then they fuck, okay, I think he gets the idea, that’s plenty.” He sets the closed book on the table and from behind him, another patron boos.

Jester glares up at him, picks the book up, and opens it, all without breaking eye contact. Then, she starts again, louder. “Her heart racing, she reaches up and her fingertips gently touch his face, she feels so small and safe in his arms, though she wishes they were closer in height, for she so desires to kiss him.”

“Is that all one sentence?” Fjord asks.

“Oh, _Oskar,_ please-“ She turns the page and skims it a moment, “She takes his hand and brings it to her heaving breast-“

“What was that part again?” Molly asks.

“Which?” Jester stops and looks at him.

“Her racing heart. What does that mean?”

“It’s when it’s beating so fast, like you are trying to outrun something.” Yasha says, “But it can get that way when you see someone you really like, too.”

“Oh.” Molly says, and his eyes flicker to Caleb for a split second before going back to Jester. “Go on, then.”

It’s only a brief pause, but it’s an eon for Caleb. He can feel his heart bumping against his chest, and his lungs feel tight. None of the others notice, with even Caduceus enthralled by this frankly hilarious display from their blue friend.

“She brings his hand to her heaving breast, and in a low whisper, says _Oskar, please_ ,” Jester glances up at Fjord, “ _Touch me_.” And then she breaks into a fit of giggles as Fjord’s face lights up in a blush and he turns in an exact half-circle before walking completely out of the Pillow Trove.

“Well, they seem to really like each other.” Caduceus says.

“Oh! They do. At this part, Guinevere just thinks he’s hot, but _Oskar_ is already totally in love with her, and he wants to bring her home and marry her, but he knows that neither of their families will allow it, and that she’s already engaged, and he’s so worried he’ll ruin her perfect life- but she hates her life, and her fiancé, because he’s a jerk and he has a really small dick and he’s bad at sex.”

“What happens next?” Molly asks.

“Well, Guinevere tries to seduce him, but he tells her he doesn’t want to hurt her and her chance at a good life, and he leaves her there in his fur, and she cries, and then there’s a scene where she touches herself to the thought of him, but it’s not the same, and- it’s so tragic, really, why can’t _Oskar_ just admit his feelings and let her seduce him- he wants the same thing!” Jester says. “He’s just so so good, y’know?”

“So is her fiancé’s penis really so small, or are Oskar’s fingers just… very large?” Yasha asks.

“It’s kind of left up to the reader’s interpretation.” Beau answers before Jester can.

Molly smiles along with the conversation, and then eventually, his gaze finds its way to Caleb and lingers. His head tilted slightly, thinking, brimming with unexpressed thoughts that he doesn’t have the words for, yet. Caleb holds the eye contact for a second before it’s too much and he has to look away, feigning that he is looking for Fjord. “Where did _our_ half-orc go? Someone should find him if you are finished reading.”

When he looks back, Molly is still staring.


	7. Reflection

They spend the next three weeks focused on recuperating. The travel to Shady Creek Run had been harrowing for all of them, some more than others. They say goodbye to the Pillow Trove after just one night, because none of them can justify spending that much gold when, after the first night, they just used the rooms to sleep anyway. After the dramatic reading of Tusk Love, they all regrouped and headed for the bathhouse, without even Caleb and Nott complaining. The fight with the Iron Shepherds had been bloody, and the espionage that had preceded it had them covered in mud and dirt - it’s a wonder that the guards weren’t called when they walked into the Pillow Trove.

 

By the end of the decided on recovery period, things are starting to feel normal again, _well,_ as normal as they ever had. If you hadn’t met Molly before the ... _incident_ (which they all refuse to discuss in detail), you might not notice anything at all.

 

One evening, Caleb finds himself on watch alone, or at least, he thinks he’s alone, until Molly joins him. They sit cross-legged in front of a well-kept fire, the wind having been kind enough not to snuff it. Caleb worries that Molly might bring up the question he asked while Jester was reading Tusk Love - Caleb certainly hasn’t forgotten that moment.

 

“You have a good memory, right?” Molly asks. “Am I different than I was?”

 

Caleb’s face had been mired with worry for himself, and he softens. “I am not sure it matters. You are here, and whether you are the same or different, you are our Mollymauk.”

 

Molly smiles softly and then his face is neutral again. “I was important to Yasha.”

 

“You say this in the past tense as though _you_ do not matter.” Caleb says. “As though _you_ are not important to her. And I am not sure that you are much different at all. You have been quieter, but you have fewer words. We had to stop you from stripping down in the lobby of the bathhouse, and Fjord is already complaining again that you _never_ wear clothes, so… it is hard to tell what has changed and what has not.”

 

Molly laughs, and it reminds Caleb so much of _that_ night. “From what you all say, I’m starting to think my personality was just being naked.”

 

Caleb stands and pads softly over to where Beau is sleeping, then rummages through her pack a moment to find Molly’s cards. An eye cracks open to watch him, but she settles again when she sees what he is taking, then kicks his shin as he walks away. The hit is not enough to hurt, but she nearly sends him tumbling anyway. He goes to sit back next to Molly, who looks at the cards curiously.

 

“I take it those were mine?” He asks.

 

“What gave it away?”

 

The tiefling looks at his cloak, pulls the sleeves up to look at his own tattoos. “Just a lucky guess.”

Caleb pulls the Lovers card from his pocket and slides it into the deck, then takes a moment to think, and shuffles them slowly for Molly to watch. It feels weird to do it, as though he may be toying with forces he has no bond with, but he does remember in exacts and specifics, and he watched Molly shuffle these cards exactly this way many times. They pass them back and forth several times, with Caleb correcting Molly’s form, though he isn’t sure it matters how they’re shuffled, so long as they are. Finally, Molly spreads the cards.

 

“Which did you have in your pocket?” He asks.

 

Caleb reaches for the deck, running his index finger along the edge of all the cards. Why should he bother telling, when he could just show? He always pulls the same one anyway-

 

_The Star._

 

“...Strange.” Caleb says, softly. “It is usually the one card. I do not know what this one means.”

 

“What do the stars mean to you?” Molly asks.

 

Caleb hums and looks up at the night sky. So far from Zadash and other civilizations, with only the light of their fire, it is a gorgeous sight. “That I am outside.”

 

Molly laughs again, and it makes Caleb smile. “Well, then, the cards read you right.”

 

“I suppose so.”

 

“What card was in your pocket?” Molly asks again, and he flips the cards so that they’re all face-up. Caleb taps the Lovers before he can stop himself, and then he lingers with his fingertip touching the card. The only sound is a quiet, “oh” from Molly.

 

“It was a bit of a joke between the two of us. You told me that you were not cheating the cards, but I am not sure that I believe that.” Caleb says, babbling a bit. “Now, pulling a different card, I think you might have been lying to me, Mr. Mollymauk.”

 

Molly shuffles the cards again and pulls one for himself while Caleb stokes the fire, it had smoldered low during their conversation. He hears Molly huff a soft sort of amused sound, and when he sits, Molly holds the lovers between two fingers. “Well, would you look at that, _Mr. Caleb_.”

 

Caleb feels his heart in his throat, and he stares at the card while Molly speaks again. “Is this why your heart races when you look at me?” He asks, finally presenting the question that Caleb knew he was going to eventually have to answer from the time Molly asked Jester what the saying meant, ‘ _racing heart_ ’. “Were we…?”

 

Caleb sits back, propped on his hands, and stares into the fire for a good, long while. Molly waits silently, though Caleb can hear him shuffling the cards again. “I...don’t know.” Caleb says finally. He glances at Molly, who has paused in his shuffle. “No, but there were...moments.”

 

“Like this?” He asks, looking around them, the scene they’re in.

 

“One in particular was exactly like this.” Caleb says, and it feels like a confession.

 

“What was special about it?”

 

“I, uhm… It was the day before…” He looks back into the fire, the same as he did _that_ night.

 

“You don’t have to tell me.” Molly says, and his grip is light on Caleb’s shoulder. Caleb closes his eyes to the stinging bite of tears that suddenly want to fall.

 

_Why does it have to be so similar?_

 

“No, it is just...difficult to say.” Caleb says, when he has his emotions under control again. “I, ehm, I kissed you, that evening.” He turns briefly to Molly, and then decides he can’t watch whatever reaction is coming after all.

 

Molly’s thumb moves in soft circles on Caleb’s shoulder while he thinks. They sit in silence for a minute, two minutes, three- Caleb feels the passage of each second, dragging on like an eternity before Molly speaks up.

 

“Can I kiss you, now?” It was not what he anticipated hearing. He meets Molly’s gaze, confused, so, so confused. Molly continues, “I understand if you say no, I just...I want to know if I’ll remember.”

 

Caleb doesn’t answer, just stares, his brow furrowed, into Molly’s red eyes. Molly eventually moves his hand, letting it relax beside him. “I’m sorry,” the tiefling says, “it’s a big ask.”

 

Caleb brushes the hair from Molly’s down-turned face, and Molly’s red eyes are on him in an instant. Caleb’s fingertips brush the outline of Molly’s jaw and come to rest under his chin, but...he _hesitates_. He doesn’t put much faith in fate, but he almost feels as though he has been told _no_ by things much more powerful than himself. He felt the mistake in it before, let himself make it, and look where it got them.

 

Molly’s eyes flutter closed to the smell of smoke and snow-damp grass, a flash of red, orange, and dark wood, though they are on a path through plains, with few trees in sight. A prickle on the skin of his arm, rough fabric where there is nothing but crisp night air, and then there is _only_ the soft, cool breeze. He opens his eyes, and Caleb is no longer in his space. No snow, no wood, just Caleb.

 

“I am sorry, I…” The redhead takes a deep, steadying breath. “I...cannot…” He feels the immediate pang of regret - of remembering his thoughts on the way to Shady Creek Run, of how it would have _felt_ if he had not taken that one chance before Molly died, of how he would never have forgiven himself, because he can _never_ forget.

 

Molly clears his throat, though his voice is still low when he speaks. “It’s okay, and… thank you, for this.” He waves the cards. “I’ll ask Yasha what the Star means in the morning, maybe she’ll know.” He stands and makes his way back to his bedroll.


	8. Moonlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Star_
> 
> **Upright** : hope, faith, rejuvination  
>  **Reversed** : faithlessness, discouragement, insecurity

As they are getting ready the next morning, Caleb can feel Beau glaring daggers at him (or fists, in her case?), but he doesn’t understand why. Then again, Beau has been angry with him many times before, and will probably be so many times after this. It’s not until they stop to let the horses rest that she catches him alone. “What the fuck, Caleb?”

He stares at her blankly. He still hasn’t figured out what exactly it was that he did to make her mad. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘ _what_ ’?” She asks. “What was that, last night?”

“You...were awake…” Caleb says.

“You woke me up when you were going through my stuff.” She says.

“I thought you had gone back to sleep…” He looks around for an exit from this conversation, but there isn’t one. Beau times her talks well, always. “I am sorry for waking you, Beauregard.”

“Don’t change the subject. You’re an idiot, why didn’t you kiss him?” She asks, and she sounds more frustrated by the situation than he feels, which is saying something.

“Because the last time I did, he died.” He snaps, and she steps back with a bewildered expression.

“Last time?” She asks, then shakes her head. “Wow, you are really good at blaming yourself for shit that isn’t your fault. Molly dying had nothing to do with you, Lorenzo killed him, and now he’s back.”

“For how long?”

“How are you going to feel if the answer to that is ‘not long’?” She counters, and it catches him off-guard. Of course, he knows the answer, he already thought about it, last time. “Get your shit together,” is what she leaves him with.

———

While Beau and Caleb are having their tense discussion, Molly approaches Yasha for a much lighter one. Yasha doesn’t smile much, Molly is learning, but her expression is soft nonetheless, soft for him in particular. “Card?” He asks, holding them out. She plucks one immediately, and turns it for him.

_The Hermit_

“What does it mean, Molly?” She asks, and somehow, he gets the feeling that she already knows.

He has no idea what the card means, but he holds her gaze for a long moment, and his head cocks to one side. “You’re searching for something.”

“Yes.” She says, and he feels giddy. “I’ve gotten that one before.”

“So, you haven’t found what you’re searching for?” He asks, looking down to shuffle the cards again.

“Not yet.” She says. “I am glad you have the cards again, but it was never about them. You read people.”

“Oh? Do… you know if I was cutting the cards with Caleb?” He asks, and she looks away, the faintest smile on her lips for a split second.

“Yes.” She says. “Did you give him a real reading, finally?”

“The Star card.” He says. “What kind of asshole was I?”

“You liked him.”

“Well, what does the Star mean?” He asks.

“Hope, I think.” She says. “You pulled that one for me a few times as well, but I think you were doing it on purpose.”

“Well, that’s a good sign for him.” Molly says. “He’s… sad.”

“Yeah, he is. I hope the cards are right about him.”

———

Caleb is hesitant to leave the camp that they set, so near where they started, so near Trostenwald, but he just saw the flutter of a coat-tail in pass in his peripheral, and there's only one person with brightly colored enough for his human eyes to pick it up in the moonlight. He stands in the edge of the firelight for a moment before following the sound of unquiet steps. He doesn't understand why the tiefling would be so careless and noisy - did he hear something that Caleb didn't? Should he wake the others? Surely there is nothing so close to town.

The first thing he notices on his walk along the low-lit path down to the lake is a bundle of cloth on the ground. He stops, picks it up, and blinks for his eyes to adjust. The faint outline of moons and suns and all the other things on Molly's coat. _Strange_. He lays it over his shoulder and continues. Every yard or so, more clothes dropped on the ground, until eventually he finds the boots abandoned just within sight of the gently waving lake.

"Mollymauk?" He calls out in a hushed voice, and then he sees the outline of a figure in the full moonlight. Slim with taut muscle, standing ankle deep in what must be icy water, leaning down to let it run through his fingers. He stands when Caleb calls out, the adornments on his horns glittering, soft blue-white shimmering off of the curves and points.

"Oh, hi, Caleb." Molly says. "I didn't think you saw me leave."

"What are you doing? It is late, it could be dangerous out here." Caleb says. He gently lays Molly's clothes next to his boots. "And now the camp has no guard."

"Come here." Molly says, and he holds out a hand. Caleb stands still for a moment and then steps out of his boots. If this is what it will take to get Molly back to camp, he had better get on with it, he supposes.

Without even really thinking about it, he sets the lights out from his fingertips, all around him, just enough to see where he is going in the darkness. He stops about arms' length from the tiefling, whose grin he can now see in the soft torchlight coming from his cantrip."The water is freezing, Molly."

"But the lighting is romantic." Molly says, and his smile widens when Caleb blushes. Molly takes his hand and pulls him just barely closer, and Caleb's heart is at it again. _Racing_.

"What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?" Caleb asks.

"You don't remember?" Molly asks, and his head tilts slightly in an innocent gesture that Caleb sees through immediately - but what does he mean? Caleb remembers _everything_ , even things he doesn’t want to, so he is certain that if something like _this_ had happened before, he would definitely remember it-

His eyes meet Molly’s suddenly, wide with the sudden realization. "I- ehm," He steps back, and though Molly's grip is loose on his hand - he _can_ let go - he doesn't let go of it, "Molly..."

Molly's expression softens."I'm only as serious as you want me to be." He looks to the moons, full and bright in the clear sky. "It's just nice tonight."

He's not wrong. It is warmer than it has been over the past few weeks - though still cool - and that isn't likely to last, given the season. The sky is cloudless, dappled with stars, and the moons both stand at their highest wax. Molly watches the moons, and Caleb watches his face. "Molly, I-"

"We should get back to camp, yeah?" Molly says, suddenly looking back to Caleb, a never-wavering smile on his face. He walks around Caleb back towards the shore, towards the camp, and Caleb holds his hand until distance forces them apart.

  
Caleb turns, his other hand reaches to catch Molly's wrist, stopping him in place. Molly pauses and looks back to him, the ever-happy expression now fallen to something soft and real, uncertainty. Beau was right, and she's going to be so smug about it. There is almost no force to the tug that pulls Molly back to him, and the tiefling moves until there is barely a breath’s distance between them. Molly’s hand leaves his, and he rests his arms on Caleb’s shoulders, almost, almost. Caleb’s palm is warm against his neck compared to the air, and he can feel Molly’s pulse pounding just as fast as his own heart.

“Caleb? Caleb!?” Caleb’s eyes close at the sound of multiple voices calling his name, including Nott’s, sounding distressed. Molly sighs softly and pulls away from him, heading back for his clothes. Caleb pulls the copper wire from his pocket and aims in the direction he heard the voice, assuring Nott that he and Molly are fine.

Molly is back in his clothes quickly, and Caleb has to push the disappointment in his chest down. Molly stares at his forlorn expression for only a second before his face cracks into a wicked grin. He picks up his own boots and then Caleb’s, then sprints for the camp. “Molly!” Caleb calls out, running after him, but he doesn’t catch up before they get back to camp.

“Your feet are wet anyway.” Molly says when he catches up, both of them panting lightly from the run. He hands the boots back with a grin. “We weren’t far.” He says to Nott, and then goes to sit on his bedroll.

“I am sorry, Nott.” Caleb says. “The alarm is still set, and I did not think anyone would wake up…”

Caleb finds the rest of his watch difficult, unable to keep his eyes torn from Molly's sleeping form for long.


End file.
